


Stuck In The Middle With You

by The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat



Series: I've_Given_You_30_Prompts_Now_What? [2]
Category: Almost Human, Batman - All Media Types, Captain America - All Media Types, Daredevil (TV), LazyTown, Torchwood, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 100 - 1000 Word Count, Dancing, Extended final fic, F/M, Formalwear, Gender or Sex Swap, Grungy Clothing, Ice Cream Parlors, M/M, Making Out, Mistah J, Morning Rituals, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Some shorter than others, Spooning, Suggestive Themes, Wearing Kigurumis, accidents do happen, darker themes, doing something together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat/pseuds/The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the 30 prompts challenge with more laughs, questions and the occasional mix of sweetness with some darker entries.</p><p>11) Joker & Harley - Wearing Kigurumis<br/>12) Scogan - Making Out<br/>13) Jorian - Eating Ice Cream<br/>14) Janto - Genderswapped<br/>15) Nelson & Murdock - In A Different Clothing Style<br/>16) Jorian - Morning Rituals<br/>17) Scogan - Spooning<br/>18) Fratt - Doing Something Together<br/>19) Stucky - Formal wear<br/>20) Sportarobbie - Dancing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wearing Kigurumis - [Joker X Harley]

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are rallied up for another enticing set of prompts! Faced with a new set of challenges with some newer faces siding with some classic favourites! But my hands are tied on revealing just who is set to make an appearance. I'd also like to imagine my writing ability has somewhat improved -- one can hope XD
> 
> All work as with any of my workings is unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own
> 
> Glitch xxx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley is becoming jealous at her partners obsessive nature towards the batman, is a simple case of dressing up the answer to steer him back in her direction?

 

Kigurumis definition - A masked cosplay'er usually of a manga character can also refer to mascots who have a non furry costume (can also refer to full body pyjamas made in Japan)

'Mistah J' hadn't been feeling himself in all respects of the term; his interest in batman had consumed him, now budding into a crippling obsession. Shuffling a deck of identity embellished cards, he sat comfortably watching as the masked 'hero', to which the city now dubbed him, infiltrating his way through the Arkham Asylum, proving once and for all that the game was coming to an end. Harley did her best managing the surrounding areas, delegating the highly painted but under-appreciated henchmen, making an example of any who disobeyed. She knew only too well how their minds worked; most of the employed were insane and very violent and sick criminals with unchallenged capabilities and while they weren't shy on voicing their opinions they were smart enough to keep said points of view close to their chests.

Harley was beautiful beyond measure, a character full of conflicting personas to which made her all the more dangerous. The Joker had relinquished her sense of conscience, flushing away all control, allowing her for the first time to truly feel free. Their twisted relationship carried no stability, offered 'nothing' any sane individual would 'willingly' subject them-self to, simply promoting unjust abuse, wearing welts and bruising of past mistakes as mere reminders.

Understanding her feelings weren't replicated came as no revelation, yet noting the slight glint in his eye that he once held for her, now shining with admiration towards the 'Batman' triggered a more venomous side. Keeping her distance from her lover's side, her hands moved, resting upon her cocked hip, as her fingers splayed teasing the slightly creased seam.

"That what this is all about pudding? The B-man doing more for you than lil ol' me? He sure is a snazzy dresser, it'd be a real shame to get blood all over his outfit - or maybe ..." The thought became apparent, ringing between her ears like a siren. "If it's the bats my pudding wants, it's the bats my pudding gets."

/\/\ ^..^ /\/\

"Batman... Batman... Can somebody tell me what kind of a world we live in, where a man dressed up as a 'bat' gets all of my press? This town needs an enema!"

The cards trimly resting between his gloved fingers were angrily propelled towards the assembled monitors conveniently stacked before him. Signs of perspiration beaded around his brow while the cracked face paint embedded itself within the deep scar tissue. Swinging indifferently within his chair, the deep red surrounding his mouth took on a more sadistic take as it was chaotically smeared across his cheeks.

"Oh Mistah J!" her childish giggle echoed from the cowering shadows, threatening to give away her position.

"What, is it Harley? I thought I'd told you to keep the 'dork knight' busy. Things were just starting to get -interesting."

The venom carried with his words sent a shrill of excitement coursing through her body. "Relax puddin' I ordered some of the armoured minions to keep the bat freak occupied. They were chanting for his blood so I couldn't possibly resist. While you -" Harley took a step forward revealing her recently changed attire. Putting aside her form fitting leather and skimpy patches of fabric, the light edged upon an oversized pyjama suit resembling nothing other than a bat. "- I'd figured you'd have some unfinished business."

A blood curdling smile lifted his features taking on a whole manner of suggestions "Come here Harley girl!"

Sauntering closer to the beckoned call, revealed more of the cotton material hanging loosely to, intentionally, conceal her slender form. From under her arms a sheer material wavered, characteristically filling out the flying mammals image. The black lipstick brushed over her plump lips, gained a slight sheen as she became caught within the light of the television screens, while nestled between her neater pigtails sat hair clips balancing cartoonist bat ears.

Confidence or possible stupidity filled her ever changing demeanour, shielding her from subtle motions such as the deadly glint within her lovers eyes and the cracking of his knuckles as he tightened his hold upon the ends of the chair arms, strictly ignoring the growing numbness brought on by the lack of flowing blood.

Upon the screens, the asylums story continued to play out with batman effortlessly decimating the wanted criminals with a mixture of talented arts. Harley positioned herself to playfully grind her hips against the Jokers clothed crotch, continuing her seductive torment, as her legs rested comfortably either side of his lap. Her arms shifted to cradling his neck acting as additional support allowing her opportunity to analyse his features.

"Like what you see?" It was then a sudden darkness engulfed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Gareth, for your love and ever lasting support <3
> 
> I've admittedly never written anything regarding this pair before but strangely enough it was toying with the idea that made them all the more suitable for this particular prompt.


	2. Making Out - [Scogan]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Making out is a term of American origin, dating back to at least 1949, and is used variously to refer to kissing, petting and necking, but may also refer to non-penetrative sex acts such as heavy petting. Snogging is a term with roughly the same meaning in British English and related varieties of English.]

" _Come ‘ere_!”

Lips clashed within a mess of teeth and arrogance, fuelling the already intense emotions left lingering between the pair. The door in which Summers found himself pulled through, closed with a gentle click confining him within a heavy darkness and the sensation of a heated body firmly thrusting up against him, forcing his back against the cluttered shelving. Relying upon his heightened senses, the out of touch maths tutor mentally mapped out a clearer image of how the men's cramped predicament appeared in order to gather his bearings.

The recent events throughout the school had left both students and teachers reeling, it was difficult for all losing one of their own, particularly for one Scott Summers who had become a recluse following the loss of his fiancée Jean Grey. He had promptly shut himself off from his teachings and spent a badly distributed and destructive amount of time, training within the danger room becoming obsessed with sharpening and perfecting his skills.

Emotions understandably built up from the tragedy, triggering some questionable developments to arise to between certain X-men to which they have since tried to hide.

It had only been a short while back since the pair had been seen arguing, something about Logan’s blatant disregard for taking off with Scott’s motorcycle during another of his ventures away from the mansion or more believably his responsibilities. Only now the tension between them had taken a one eighty turn as tantalising touches and teasing fingertips fought to seek out heated flesh under restrictive clothing.

An animalistic growl emitted around the compact room. “ _Nice act you pulled off back there…I almost believed that you were actually pissed with me._ ”

“ _I was – am_.”

“ _Still?_ ” Sinking his teeth into the crook of the younger man’s neck, Logan momentarily basked in the feeling of the other squirming at his touch, catching the intent chorus of whispered moans and dubious resistance. The growing anticipation, intensified as the tip of the wolverines tongue traced a path up from the abused skin, taunting the dip behind the team leaders ear, his hand skilfully moved lower cupping the covered turgid length. “ _Because Slim, that aint no board marker greeting me._ "

Acting upon impulse Scott strengthened his stance, widening his legs as his hips raised forcing himself deeper into the others invading palm. " _Logan, please, we’re gonna ahh! – If we... Nggh_ "

" _Quit your yapping, no one knows we're here..._ " The warmth of his breath mixed with the calmness in his words served seemed as a reminder to the effect he held over the other, feeling the semi-erect member twitch excitedly within his lose grasp.

Wrapping his arms around hulking shoulders, Scott clumsily pulled the older man closer landing eager kisses into the untamed mutton chops in search of the lips he still considered a forbidden desire. His fingers urgently racked through the equally feral hair, tightening as an unexpected hand reached back to part and grope his ass cheeks. “ _Lo_ -” thrusting within an unrehearsed rhythm the young leader felt his partner’s arousal pressing against his own and the fingers acting as a cradle. Hot messy kisses made way for a further battle of dominance, tongues twisting exploring the moist confines as fingers continued to taunt and tantalise heated flesh spurring further moans of encouragement.

The sudden sound of a throat being cleared was enough to freeze the pair’s motions and prompting them to raise their hands innocently hardly daring to look at the unexpected arrival wearing a light fitting aura. Logan winced fully aware of who was behind him and what odour would be insulting his senses. “ _Hank … this is probably as bad as it looks._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly this kicked my ass, I write suggestive posts pretty much within every update and yet the simple act of 'making out' threw a spanner in my creative works. even more shocking is that it happened with one of my favourite pairings!


	3. Eating Ice Cream - [Jorian]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex relieves a childhood memory with the assistance of a frozen desert while Dorian is given oppertunity to analyse its properties.

 

 

> **Ice cream is a frozen food, typically eaten as a snack or dessert, usually made from dairy products, such as milk and cream, and often combined with fruits or other ingredients and flavours.**

“ _Never thought I’d step foot in a place like_ _this again._ ” Kennex commented, mostly to himself, as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the rude positioning of the suns rays. The intricate detail given to restore an old fashioned ice cream parlour was commendable and it was just one of a few projects the over seeing government had budgeted for reforming, vintage amusements for the nostalgic working class. It was also seen as a desperate bid to restore some public faith and moral within the Old Town. 

" _By the sounds of things, following today I believe your assumption may just be right. Despite officials attempts, they're still struggling to diminish crime ratings and resolve poverty levels_ _within the vicinity._ "

Noting the blue calligraphy lighting the side of his companions face, John rolled his eyes before abruptly pushing open the patrol car door. " _Come on let's get_ _some ice cream_ "

" _You are aware that I don't eat._ "

" _Perfect. I'm buying. Let's roll._ "

> **\- / * \ -**

The bright colours and nauseating out dated tunes were enough to challenge anyone’s real desire for such a rare frozen desert; whilst the buffering of the love seat booths carried its own personal comfort. The authentic designed menus were a nice added touch, the waitresses however … quirking a brow John caught his partner’s tell-tale blank expression from across the table.

“ _Sir_?”

“ _Just the two scoops of chocolate and two coffees, thanks._ ”

“ _Coming right up ‘suga’_ ”

Handing the menu back with a forced smile John watched the slight wiggle in the young woman’s walk before slowly settled back into his seat, raising a pointed finger in response to the others unspoken comment. It no longer took a mind reader to assess just what the other was attempting to conduct. “ _Unless you are formally given /written/ permission, you are banned from freelance medicals. I don’t want you scanning my blood pressure, my balls or another part of my anatomy without my prior consent. So I suggest that you sit quietly, keeping your hands or whatever to yourself_.”

“ _Just why two cups of coffee, John?_ ”

“ _What?_ ” the detective briefly looked over his shoulder before answering “ _Because they don’t take kindly to MX’s inhospitable nature, besides Maldonado wanted us to try and stay off grid so for now we need to make you appear as human as possible.”_

The service the place provided was much like he expected, prompt and served with an overly characteristic smile. The silence sitting between the two hadn't been long lived when steaming mugs of coffee where placed in front of them followed by a small bowl of chocolate ice-cream. After exchanging pleasantries John eagerly reached for his spoon circling it around the inside of the dish and around the pudding, scooping just enough to fill the tip. “ _My father used to bring me to places like this, back before they closed most things down because poverty was becoming a growing choice in life_.”

In reflect to the conversations that had previously past between him and the detective, Dorian was somewhat taken back with the random and unexpected admission. Back at the lab Rudy was often sharing unrelated stories and sometimes inappropriate stories about himself but never John, he often voiced that he saw it a sign of weakness and an opportunity for others to ask further questions. I mean who would want that? “ _With your fathers reputation I can see it being hard him to ‘luxuriate’_ ”

“ _No matter how well behaved while keeping out from the others feet, the force deemed me a liability. I mean I can understand their rulings now but back then, I just wanted time to see my ol’ man. So we used to come to places like these. A rare treat by today’s standards, well any standards._ ”

The DRN looked on as the conversation died, glancing away as John savoured the melting chocolate substance. The waitresses had moved on serving couples with small children, there cheery voices and upbeat excitement adding an atmosphere to the place.

“ _Here, I know you don’t ‘eat’ but try some,_ _for me_.” Pushing the bowl towards the centre of the table John moved to interlace his fingers around the cooling coffee cup, his eyes showing a hint of encouragement as his glance switched between Dorian and the offering. “ _Just don’t use your finger – small kids._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again another new pairing that I've never written about only with this one I've always wanted to have a try. I feel its a 'are they, aren't they' stage of there relationship so you can take it how ever you please as I feel it works for however you see them in terms of shipping.


	4. Genderswapped - [Janto]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun - Genderswap (plural genderswaps) 
> 
> (Fandom slang) The act of changing a fictional character's biological sex and/or gender identity from the canonical norm.

> Working within Torchwood facilities, employees soon picked up the knowledge 'if something felt wrong, it was probably too late'. For Ianto Jones, all it took was waking up one weekend with an unfamiliar weight sitting on his chest and the peculiar sensation of loss. If given the option, he would have preferably found himself cuddled up with inanimate objects twisted tightly within the bed sheets, nursing a hefty hangover. That, at least, had a foreseeable end.

Ianto had, to be honest, pacing aimlessly around his flat really wasn't helping matters. If anything he found himself growing more frustrated, particularly at the way his hips now swayed as he walked and the uncomfortable bounce residing upon his newly developed chest. The Welshman took into consideration that with a high probability, most people within a mile radius of his complex apartment heard him scream. Yet in fairness, there was an unmistakable change to how he sounded and he had just woken up to something most would consider a major shock to the system. The trusted Archivist was no longer the man who was entrusted with important Torchwood Intel but more a female version hoping to carry out the same responsibilities while maintaining the similar levels of respect.

Having finally forced himself to sit down in his faux leather arm chair, Ianto exhaled deeply, his hands falling haphazardly between his legs with hope, that he could force himself to believe the last half hour was simply some kind of vivid nightmare. His dexterous digits slowly traced up his naked inner thigh, edging ever closer to the hem of his dark boxers causing the archivist’s breath to hitch at the almost teasing sensation whilst the pads of his fingertips took note of a subtle softness in the skins texture. The sensations were all wrong.

Quickly crossing his legs, Ianto angled his position within the seat pushing his weight back into the uncomfortable angles. His fingers splayed, abruptly scraped back his unruly shoulder-length hair, scraping it back from his feminised features. “ _I can’t do …_ ” the chime in his words forced his stammered words to halt, it had been difficult enough facing his reality face on, barely recognising himself apart from the twinkling blue haze in his eyes. Allowing his glance to fall over his newer developments, the archivist focused upon the crease stretching across his t-shirt indicating the positioning of his parted breasts and peaked nipples. “ _Jack_!”

Saying his leaders name sounded wrong, the tone taking him back to his years enduring puberty, where it was down to luck of the draw, now he was sounding more like a crossover of Gwen and Tosh; a formal attitude with a welsh twist.

Padding back towards the bedroom on his tip toes, Ianto crossed his arms over his chest, achieving some control over his new bodies movements. Crawling clumsily over the unkempt bed the Welshman reached for his phone unhooking it from the charger resting upon the nightstand before searching for Jacks name within the available contacts. The calling tone seemed to drag out more anxiety with each passing, concluding with a choked breath as a strong American accent filled his ears. “ _Ianto Jones, I must say I’m shocked to find you actively avoiding my advances though last night was certainly interesting_.”

Ianto could feel a blush burning across his cheeks at the active memory not to mention an unsavory dampness spreading between his legs. “ _Jack I --_ ”

“ _Hold on, who is this?_ ”

“ _It’s Ianto, please Jack, trust me_ ”

“ _I’m sorry lady, I lo—ve the accent and all but you're gonna need more than that to convince me. Tell me, just how did you get his phone? And did you just dial the first appealing name on there because trust me he’s got some rather appealing friends_.”

“ _If you point out Owen then I promise, I will put you on decaf coffee for the rest of the month_.”

“ _Ianto_? _Wha-what happened_?”

“ _Last night, when that, that weevil disturbed us … it didn’t just drop the strange artifact but intentionally threw it towards me. Jack, I’m scared. I’m missing a rather substantial part of my anatomy while sporting more than a handful’s worth upon my chest.”_ Tears began leaving telltale marks down his pronounced cheekbones silhouetting the heightened hitch in his voice. _“I need help, please.”_

_“Okay I have Tosh looking into the artefact as we speak, the rest of us are heading over, now.”_

_“No-no-no just you, the others can't know yet! Just you please.”_

Letting out a deep breath, the immortal dragged his fingers over the day old stubble darkening his features. “ _Okay, I’m on my way_. _Hang in there._ ”


	5. In A Different Clothing Style - [Nelson & Murdock]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Style  
> [stahyl]  
> noun
> 
> * Style is expressing yourself through what you wear.  
> * Style is defined as a particular of doing or saying something or refers to a unique form of clothing or way of arranging your appearance

 

There were some memories you really could not push aside; they were always the ones that could that you count on to put the smile back on your face when all other methods had failed. For Matthew Murdock, such thoughts were all he had left. His company Nelson and Murdock was no more and his relationship with Karen had ended before it had truly begun, allowing the all too familiar sensation of loneliness too, once again, wash over him.

His fingers aimlessly tugged and twisted around a loose piece of thread whilst his thoughts battled in an unrelenting turmoil of what brought him here and what were to be his next steps. The process had brought him back to Foggy and how the rollercoaster ride they considered a friendship really hit off. It had obviously begun back when the two discovered they were to be roommates. Foggy had greeted him the warmest of welcomes and from that moment alone, had considered then inseparable. Yet it was the first University party that the connection really started thickening.

**\-- DD --**

Typically enough it was fancy dress festivity, not that it would have made any difference to Matt, though he had some worry that it would affect his spatial awareness with the unfamiliarity of the room and unaccounted pieces of fabric.

“ _Everything okay, buddy?_ ”

“ _Hmm? …Yeah._ ” Focusing his attention back to his surroundings Matt closed the plainly covered book resting on his lap and offered up a less than convincing smile. “ _I’m just not sure about the party, I mean; I wasn’t directly invited and honestly dressing up isn’t really my thing._ ”

“ _And that’s where you’re wrong, amigo; you have a duty as a wing man to join me to all events and overly fabricate my life making me more appealing to all the señoritas._ ”

“ _I take it you still have your eye on the girl in your Spanish class?_ ”

“ _Ah, ah, ah -- you didn’t let me finish …_ ” Gesturing with a raised finger Foggy watched as his friend sat back, letting out a defeated breath. “ _But yes, she agreed to assist me with some revision later this week; anyway, getting back to the matter at hand my mom sent us these …”_ In his hand dangled a loose collection of hangers upon which hung several items of clothing, ranging from torn shirts to snug fitting leather pants with chains sprouting from random orifices. The only theme linking them together was the selective shades of black and grey. “ _She assured me these were all the rage back when she and my dad were around our age; she also mentioned something about a ‘ **grunge genre** ’ but I’m not entirely sure what that was._”

“ _Oh, Foggy you didn’t –_ ”

“ _I did; I figured it would save our hard-saved cash, as well as giving you a reason to take a break from all this studying and living a little. So what are we waiting for?_ ”

**\-- DD --**

It had to be the first and last time he had allowed anyone to style his hair with such a mass quantity of styling gel. It had taken at least four washes and a considerable amount of conditioner for his hair to feel somewhat natural. Some of the remarks he had received about the tight fitting leather still went unforgotten, as did the rather embarrassing matter with the chains, which still stuck with him to this day.

However, Foggy was right, just as he always was, sometimes he just needed to let loose and say the hell to what others thought. It just hurt more not having him standing at his side.


	6. Morning Rituals - [Jorian]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We also call the ceremony itself a ritual. Although it comes from religious ceremonies, ritual can also be used for any time-honored tradition, like the Superbowl, or Mardi Gras, or Sunday morning pancake breakfast. Definitions of ritual.

John hated mornings, it didn’t matter with day of the week he’d woken up on; it was the simple act of the rays of sun glaring deeply over his features as it spread around his minimalist room and the cheerful, unfiltered, conversations deafeningly screeched below his window that seemed to trigger the beginning of a low tolerance mood. The clock radio didn’t seem to aid matters, playing tunes of his youth with the backing title that it was now considered one for the oldies but above all, it was facing the overly familiar and tedious tasks that urged the question of ‘ _just how dedicated he was towards the police district?_ ’

Rolling onto his back, rubbing his face with both hands; a tired groan passed the detectives lips before he forced himself to yank back the duvet.

Technology had progressed in leaps and bounds, reintroducing people to almost forgotten aspects of their lives and making the daily grim somewhat bearable. It would be untrue to say life was better as even with the building of ‘the wall’, people were still found braving the streets and the rations offered were no more than capsules of their original form. For John, however, it provided mobility and allowed him to continue following in his father’s footsteps and on remembering to charge the prosthetic appendage it covered cosmetic aspects such as skin pigmentation and comfortable movement programming that, in itself, took the edge off his sidelined PTSD.

Pushing himself up to rest idly on his elbows, John looked down over himself, grimacing at the technically advanced socket awaiting activation. It was the most discouraging drawback to a morning that never really left his trail of thought. Edging towards the side of the bed John reached out towards the surrounding units for support, pulling himself upright and with an awkward hop navigated himself across the short distance of the room, sighing deeply as he twisted the artificial appendage. He’d barely caught the sound of the release click as it became overshadowed by the familiar announcement clarifying the battery life had yet to meet optimum capacity.

Backing up on a pale cushioned stool, Kennex grimaced as the sockets aligned seamlessly balancing out his profile and with a flick of a switch, from a band wrapped around his upper thigh, a modification was activated transforming the cold steel look to match his skin complexion. Pausing as he rose to his feet, John distributed his weight slowly as he found himself readjusting.

Everything from then flowed with ease while brushing his teeth the detective took note of the growing bags under his eyes. The nights proved no simpler as traumatic memories, plagued his overly active thoughts revealing far more questions than answers. Spitting the foamy fluoride paste into the basin, John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before rinsing with a capful of mouthwash. His damp hands idly combed through his hair softening more prominent peaks while a slightly creased shirt, pulled from the wash basket was deemed appropriate for his upcoming shift.

And as usual, his toast was burnt beyond his preference around the crusted edges.

> **\--**

Dorian was under no illusion that Rudy enjoyed his company, unlike his partner John who seemed to hide his real feelings behind an array of quick fired insults and redirect comments. It made no difference that he couldn’t partake in the breakfast the technician described as ‘ _ **The Works**_ ’, a term he was assured was used worldwide regarding the popular collection of greasy food types. The term ‘ _you don’t know what you’re missing_ ’ was another repeated statement the flawed DRN was often told while he calculated the calorie intake.

It didn’t change the fact that each morning he awoke with a smile, hearing the other sing as though no one was listening and taking pride in his accomplishments and how he was greeted with a smile and someone always interested in what he had to say.

What a great way to start the day.


	7. Spooning - [Scogan]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spoon  
> spuːn/  
> verb  
> gerund or present participle: spooning
> 
> informaldated  
> (of two people) behave in an amorous way; kiss and cuddle.  
> "I saw them spooning on the beach"  
> (of two people) lie close together sideways and front to back, so as to fit together like spoons.

 

> " _There's only one bed_ "
> 
> " _Logan I'm too tired to argue, which side of the bed do you want?_ "
> 
> " _You're seriously telling me you haven't a problem with this?_ "
> 
> " _No, I'm ' **seriously** ' telling you I'm too tired to make an issue out of sleeping arrangements, now pick aside before I choose for you._"

Pinching the bridge of his nose Scott sighed deeply, the huff he'd received in response had been expected, as the day, itself, had been more than marginally challenging and taken from events just past, it was proving an additional hurdle to hope for some kind of silver lining. So as you could imagine having a more feral mutant attempting an outburst over sleeping arrangements just seemed downright trivial. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught the other turning his back to remove his shirt, his motions showing gradual movement towards the right side of the bed, feeling some relief that they'd managed to overcome one dilemma, the X-leader gave a moment to allow his eyes to trace over the adequately sized bunk. He longed for nothing more that to feel the comforting material pressed against his bare flesh and to finally succumb to the weight of his heavy lids. Slipping his shirt buttons free Scott allowed the fabric to slip freely over his shoulders exposing, fresh and old wounds decorating his battered form. 

As a rule, neither man would have never dreamed of sharing such close proximity with the other unless the circumstances such as this requested it. They were a long way from the comforts of the mansion and for the moment lacked the means to contact the rest of the team for help. Both men had endured minor injuries and though Wolverine was able to self-heal, his wounds still required time and a gentle air flow.

Before extinguishing the last of the light within the cramped room, Logan caught a rare sight of the other as he climbed under the pulled back covers, a realisation which reminded him that despite his silence, Summers wasn’t as indestructible as he tried to make everyone believe. It was a rare sentiment but tonight, more than anything, that he could share his ability.

 

> **–**

The temperature dropped on a dramatic scale, encouraging each breath to appear as a small pocket of fine mist. Outside the singular windowpane, the wind howled relentlessly causing the glass the rattle within its already loose confines; yet it was the subtle shiver and taunt tug of the covers that pulled the older mutant from his dreamless sleep. " _Summers? –_ ” curiosity filled the whisper light tone that caused little more than a stir, within the thick darkness.

Twisting his position to face further inward, Logan reached out with exploratory digits for the slender mutant, his slightly splayed fingers tenderly stroking down and over what appeared as the bend in an arm and brushing over what resembled goose-pimpled skin with a combined chill. " _Dammit, Cyke! You ain't gonna like this but --_ " Voice no louder, just matter of factually, Logan scooted himself closer raising the sheets to avoid an intertwining of limbs and fabric until his chest pressed flatly against the others bareback, their hips pulled flush, as his knees slipped into place under taut thighs. The notions felt almost natural as if instead of dreaming about such a moment he'd actually lived it, just as he didn't need his heightened senses to reel off some the subtle scents tantalising his flared nostrils. A slight hint of lavender blended with some brand of cologne he'd never caught the name of all topped with an outer layer of sweat and soot. A hidden reward gave face as he felt the younger man press leisurely back into his arms with a contented sigh.

" _Scott?_ " Logan's heated breath ran close along the length of the others neck as he nestled in closer, lips ghosting across his revealed shoulder as if willing himself to take the final hurdle and give in to temptation he'd battled since before Jean's death. The pair were close, in their own ways, but certain actions, such as this, were bound to have consequences.

Countless altercations ran through the feral mutants thoughts, most were desire ridden while others were more – productive. It was a basic instinct to huddle together for warmth and in fairness, the clothing they’d discarded were nothing short of tatters, which alone, could be seen as a valid excuse to anyone questioning the suggestive manner in which he was spooning his comrade. With outstretched fingers, Logan reached up palming the smooth abs and etching to mind every intricate detail whilst being mindful of injuries yet healed. The pads of his fingers caught a slight strip of hair spreading into a light coverage over the others chest leading the heel of his hand to skim over an erect peak, triggering a catch in the others breath as his posture momentarily tensed. But he hadn’t pulled away.

" _Logan ... not here ..._ " 

" _Scott I didn't mean ... I thought you were asleep._ "

" _I’m so cold -- can't feel my fingers._ "

The night sky still fought for control as the hours slowly ticked by forcing the older mutant to silence his demanding thoughts in place of sleep. The moment remained intimate as limbs moved to weave between each over fighting for a warmth to challenge the blistering cold, then come the morning the focus would return to finding a way home.


	8. Doing Something Together [Fratt]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To do something with someone else - 
> 
> Pull together  
> If people pull together, they work together to achieve something

 

Blood dripped over his fingers as the two lacerated edges were pressed closer together, the tip of the needle pressing forward to penetrate the swollen flesh as the victim of an obvious assault hissed in discomfort. “ _I’d half expected you to bitch like a little girl as soon as I’d started – Still, I guess there’s still time before you start yakking my ear off._ ”

“ _I didn't need your help –_ ”

“ _Whup, and here we go! – I was being nuthing but a Good Samaritan, Red, I could tell even before I’d started cocking my gun that you had everything under control.”_ Sarcasm drenched every syllable making Matt’s grimace tighten. _“You had no right getting involved in all that bullshit, I mean look at yourself, sitting here being stitched up with a sewing needle by torchlight it’s hardly anyone’s idea of fun. Except yours maybe, I think you actually get a kick out of being beaten up._ ”

_“Yet, you felt no remorse in killing them?”_

“ _Aw, we still on about that?”_ Tugging at the captured thread caught within some congealed blood, the hardened man rearranged the ray of light before letting out a lengthy breath. _“No, they got what was coming to them and you know what Red? Someone should really put their foot down and make you start thinking more about yourself. I mean I’d offer but I’ve just enough care for myself_.” Some humour entered his tone as he touched on his opinion of the man sat with his back towards him; true his suit was questionable but it offered a decent amount of protection for the abuse he offered himself up to while upholding some mystery as to who he really was.  

Not that Frank cared. 

The self-proclaimed punishers fingers glided over bare skin, wiping clean the smears of blood decorating the devils back whilst following up with an anchor stitch to stop his attempt at a suture becoming undone. The silence that had fallen between the two, was something Frank felt thankful for especially as the tentative touch he was offering felt so foreign. He knew it had nothing do do with the fact the recipient was male; Hell, back when he served as a Marine he patched up multiple comrades before throwing them back out to meet their maker. It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies but his men respected him for it. 

Castle had become well known for doing exactly what he expected others to copy.

“Hey, I don't have any gauze dressing with me, so you're gonna have to try and lay low for a couple of days, I don't want you going off and busting up my handy work. I couldn't feel anything broken so ...”

“Thanks”

The singular word was enough to drag the pair back into a familiar silence, the choir boy had said little and barely even moaned as his wounds were poked and pinched back together. “Yeah well -- don't get used to it, I don't always plan on being around.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a weird one I know but there are a few things you can take from this for the prompt 'Doing something together' they're sharing a conversation, spending time in one another's company and Franks helping a friend out to which Matt is being compliant. 
> 
> I like the different take I used for this, as it's different to sitting down with coffee or watching TV.
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoy :)


	9. In Formal Wear - [Stucky]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formal wear **(Canada, US)** and formal dress wear **(UK)** are general terms for clothing suitable for formal social events, such as a wedding, formal garden party or dinner, débutante cotillion, dance, or race.

 

The individual who had developed the complicated concept of fastening a tie needed to be shot. It was time-consuming enough to judge the manageable lengths of each side, only to find yourself faced with the complexity of what end slipped under which first. Out of frustration, Barnes pulled his ‘attempt’ apart before heftily dropping his hands back at his sides. Formal wear was hardly his forte, but attending a dinner surrounded by superior members of the S.H.I.E.L.D, board required a little more thought than a clip-on tie and a dapper hairstyle.

“ _You doing okay?_ ” The caring tone was almost expected, having already caught familiar if not subtle footsteps click against the marble flooring before stopping at the entrance way. The veteran soldier hardly felt the need to look up, knowing Steve, as predictable as ever, would have fulfilled a laid back posture by leaning against the door frame, tugging delicately at his shirt cuffs peeking from beneath his dinner jacket. “ _It was Natasha who let slip about you scrubbing up well, she - wasn’t wrong_.” 

Feeling the corners of his lips pick up into a smirk, Bucky directed his attention to meet the others surprisingly shy gaze “ _So ... Are you just here to pass on her approval? or maybe like a true friend, you sensed my struggle and actually came to help?_ ” His humour remained dry as once again he picked up each end of the tailored material, tugging at them in turn to once again adjust the length. “ _It feels like a lifetime ago, that I remembered how to fasten one of these._ ”

“ _In our case, it pretty much was but we’re adjusting, and considering everything we’ve had thrown at us, your only complaint thus far is recalling what loops over what. I’d say that’s pretty good going_.” Having closed the gap, the All-American hero reached out to unfold the others crisp collar, his fingers brushing tentatively over a combination of warm skin and cool metal, his focus forced upon the stripped pattern decorating the expensive material as he tugged the slightly wider end lower. “ _This really isn’t as fiddly as it’s making you believe. You just gotta cross these two over then … move this end round to tuck it up through here and … down through this gap to form the –_ ”

The cut-off motion from Barnes was subtle, if not unexpected, his warm fingers quickly reached to cradle the back of the Captain's neck, drawing him closer for a surprisingly tender kiss, halting the attempt at commentary. He was thankful and for the moment felt surer of himself as he dared to part his lips slightly, allowing the tip of his tongue to edge closer wanting to tease the other into some kind of submission. His fingers had just started combing through the blondes short hair when he felt the other pulling away. His brief and uplifting sense of confidence had been immediately replaced with a deafening silence and strange sense of insecurity when he caught his name.

“ _Bucky?! I -_ -”

“ _Steve wait -- I know what you're going to say_ ” A heated blush crept across the talented soldier’s cheeks as he took a step back further widening the gap lingering between them. A sigh pressing on his lips. “ _That was ‘my’ first kiss since 1945 and -- I’m glad it was with you. You’re my best friend and the only person who was willing to stand in my corner when everyone had labelled me a lost cause. I have done a lot of things I’m not proud of, well except that and deep down I’m still me and I know you can see that._ ”

“ _I know Buck and believe it or not I am flattered it's just --_.” Reclosing the gap, Rogers stepped up, a little closer than deemed necessary adjusting the loosely hanging tie before folding over the collar and soothing out imagined creases. A smile spreading across his features carrying the incentive that all was still well between them. Under his hand, he could feel his comrade's heart racing. " _We’re already risking tardiness with the board of directors, though next time and there will be a next time, little fair warning wouldn't hurt and maybe you wearing this suit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **  
> _How to fasten a tie in full_  
>   
> 
>  **Step One:**  
>  Cross the wide end over the narrow, then slip the wide end up between the tie and the collar, then simply drop it back down.  
>  **Step Two:**  
>  Wrap the wide end behind the narrow end from right to left.  
>  **Step Three:**  
>  Bring the wide end in front and over the loop between the collar and tie.  
>  **Step Four:**  
>  Wrap the wide end around the narrow part one more time and slip up through the loop again.  
>  **Step Five:**  
>  Loosely stabilising the knot, slip the wide end through it. Centre the dimple. Tighten.


	10. Dancing - [Sportarobbie]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dance  
> dɑːns/
> 
> noun  
> 1.  
> a series of steps and movements that match the speed and rhythm of a piece of music.  
> "everyone was taking part in the dance"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author note/** I had originally started this back before Christmas 2016, but strangely enough, since falling pregnant (which was around the same time) I've been unable to write for cookies! I’ve still a few weeks left and my little bundle seems to be cheering me on as I have the occasional creative spark. So here we have prompt 20 of 30!

He was the self-proclaimed ‘master of disguise’, which in itself had made witnessing the utter confusion written over the towns faces, ever more enjoyable. This time he’d taken to dressing as one of his personal favourites - Sully Swingahip, a formidable dance instructor from the ‘ _most famous dance school in the world_!’ It could have just been down to the wavy fallen back hairstyle and the fiendishly styled facial trim but just hold on before you think you’ve heard everything!

His latest idea appeared simpler than most of his far-fetched plans to rid the town of the flouncy blue kangaroo. All he needed was to entice Sportakook to look over his musical wears until someone, namely him, accidentally but with purpose, tripped him into the trunk where – NO! Even someone with a naive charm about them could see that this was a trap in the making, though, this was Lazy Town … Still, it needed something to make it more convincing, something none of them would see coming. But what?

Dragging a large trunk behind him, it was the pink haired girl who had noticed him first, giving a sceptical look which seemed to lack any actual realisation to who he was and how he’d wronged her the last time their paths had crossed. True, it came as slightly insulting, what with the added attention to detail and the joint immobilising dance moves he happened to piece together on the spot, but alas, she wasn’t his intended target, nor was the kid who favoured the term ‘mine’ who also happened to saunter past, eyeing up what he felt was on offer. Stinky? Sticky? Whatever!

“ _Who are you supposed to be?_ ” Stephanie’s confidence seemed to further flourish as more of her friends gathered from all corners and readied at her sides, theoretically backing up her thrown question with directed glances and subtle nods situated between themselves. In response, Robbie simply outstretched his arms as if the gesture would provide any additional clues to his identity, along with an added back flick of his hair almost resembling that of a model from a hair commercial.

“ _Why, I’m Sully Swingahip …_ ” Holding up a finger, to shush the expected applause, the slender villain rushed back towards the trunk and with a struggled haul, that drew out a few audible crunches, pulled open the lid. From inside he retrieved a pair of maracas or rumba shakers as they were more colourfully known, giving them an enthusiastic shake along with a not so rhythmic roll of his hips. Not such a good move for a man with an all sugar diet as his joints continued to crack and muscles screamed with a tightening reluctance forcing him to a stop but not without ending on a dramatic pose. The ball of his palm rushed massage his lower back in hope of soothing the sharp pains, while the other hand reached out, offering up some pompous wave. “ _\- famous dancer – at your service!_ ”

There had been some caution around mentioning the ‘dance school’ especially with how his last charade as Sully finished up, still, the bumbling major and his two-seater plane were nowhere in sight.

“ _Some dancer –_ ” The short but nasal remark was whispered while practically dripping with sarcasm, still, it caused enough attention that the mouthy brats actively chastised one of their own, chorusing a single name. ‘ _Stingy_ ’

–

As if appearing on cue, Sportacus jogged up behind the gathered group, taking on his natural heroic stance with his clenched hands resting comfortably on his hips. “ _Hi, guys, what’s going on?_ ”

Robbie being quick to make use of the brief distraction, throwing the maracas carelessly to the side before pointing towards the newcomer. “ _Ah ha! You there!_ ” With the use of a gathering motion, the slender villain ushered the other man closer and with added encouragement from the kids, the ‘slightly’ above average hero found he couldn’t really refuse.

Keeping a bright smile on his features as he waded through the small group, Sportacus failed to pick up on the knowing smile taking place across the instructor’s features as he reached out linking their arms. Incidentally, the notion sent them into a brief but comical swing around, until the pair were able to adjust and reface the exuberant crowd. “ _Looks like someone can’t wait to get started!_ ” with a mocking laugh surrounding his words, the dance tutor playfully nudged the athletic elf, adding a presumptuous wink before reaching to take his hands again. Placing one confidently on his hip, while his fingers weaved between those of the other hand as they took on the standard stance of a waltz, with one or two slight modifications. “ _Now simply follow my lead._ ”

“ _Like this?_ ”

His question didn’t really receive an answer as Sportacus felt the other man’s hips press closer to his own, forcing him to take a step back before just as swiftly being pulled forward. He doubted it would have been so awkward should he have had it actually explained what was required of him but to be fair the quick motions took on a back, forth, left, right and repeat sort of pattern, kinda taking on a paired line dance rather than the delicate intention. 

Their outstretched arms just seemed to follow some made up swaying motion, almost, overshadowing the sensation of fingertips pressing tighter into one another’s hip. The children laughed and cheered on the pair's antics, some even attempting to copy the fairly straightforward routine. Ziggy taking to swinging his lolly pop around with added enthusiasm.  

What firstly seemed as an embarrassing distraction seemed to take on a natural feel. Heck, he was pretty sure he could look the blue flippity flop in the eye and not feel the burn of a blush quickly spread over his cheeks as it was already too late to worry about sweaty palms. But alas he needed to put some form of a plan into action and what better way than adding a little spin into the mix.

Stepping back with a little force pressed against the elf’s hip, the purple crazed villain raised his chin slightly with a visible smirk “ _It seems like_   _that sticky kid has jumped a few steps ahead of us_ ”. His actions vocalised the rest of his sentence as their extended arms rose, continuing on with the previous momentum, Robbie could feel himself glow with the sensation of complete acceptance of the group while moving to balance on the balls of his feet, just as any agile dancer would in preparation.

It was following that, disaster reared its head. 

> **CRASH! BANG! WALLOP!**

A pretty mixture of stars and birds seem to circle around his head while the rest of his surroundings appeared as nothing more than a blur. 

“ _Robbie? Robbie? … Are you hurt? Can we get you anything Mr Rotten?”_

“ _What? -- What, are you talking about I’m ...”_  Reaching up, the harsh texture of an over-gelled quiff insulted his fingertips, allowing the realisation that his ‘make up as it went along’ plan had failed and that he would be once again be sought out as the villain he’d inwardly praised himself on being. His thoughts readied to stem further, wanting to tug him from his somewhat joyous experience when the voices of children again cut in. 

“ _That was quite a fall!”_

“ _Yeah, Sportacus almost didn't catch you_!”

Reaching around to massage the freshly protruding bump at the back of his head, Robbie winced before slowly looked around, taking in the concerned glances looking back at him. “ _Sportacus?”_

“ _I’m here Robbie. It seems when you spun out, you tripped over some shakers that were just lying around. I try and remind the kids to always tidy away once they have finished playing but it looks like, maybe this once, that you need to start listening to my advice as well._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a wider selection of pairings this time around but what can I say, muses come and go and within the space of a year, well just over fandoms and interests change. I've never written this particular pairing but I absolutely loved the show when it first came out. I honestly didn't realise until recently there was a wide selection of fanfiction and art! Taking on this prompt was also a perfect excuse to rewatch the first two seasons and finish off from where I left off. 
> 
> This fandom, as well as Scogan, is so inviting and the people that make it up are some of the best!! Keep up the amazing work! 
> 
> Lots of Love 
> 
> Glitch xx


End file.
